The Past with Mao and CC
by alicekinsno1
Summary: A story of Mao's past and C.C.'s discovery of him. I was going to put this on my fanfic "A Wasted Opportunity," but I felt it was just too different. I OWN NOTHING!
1. Chapter 1

_So, this is the second part to my story, except it's mostly just how I envision Mao's family history and early life. I was going to put it in my fanfic "A Wasted Opportunity," but I felt it told too different a story. Hope it's half-decent and not too cliche..._

_This will be in multiple parts. The second part is more C.C.'s involvement and how she finds Mao._

As the warm spring sunlight shone into the bedroom of the Chinese imperial bedroom, a poor, strange woman woke up in the arms of the emperor of the Chinese Federation. She puzzled for awhile, trying to remember why she had come here, and wondered if she would ever regret it. She was only a commoner and a runaway, who had come to the palace seeking food and shelter. When the emperor found her, he almost turned her away, since only nobles were allowed inside his palace without special permission. However, when he saw how pretty she was, he changed his mind, on the condition that she be his mistress until further notice.

Meanwhile, the Chinese emperor had a terrible thought. He couldn't remember if he'd used any birth control. The woman he was sleeping with never did; she didn't know what birth control was. Last night, he had been called out on business as he was washing up to prepare for sex, and had left the condom pack he usually used on the floor. And now he wasn't sure if he'd gone back to get it.

Unfortunately, he hadn't, but it wasn't until several days later when he realized it, at which point it was too late to get any emergency contraceptives. Not that the woman he slept with realized she was pregnant until many months afterward; she didn't notice the irritating nausea, or the first skipped period; it took her actually feeling her child moving inside of her to realize what was going on. Even then, it took some persuasion to convince her of exactly what the sudden taps inside of her meant.

Sometime in late fall, when she was around six months pregnant, the emperor brought her some interesting information. "The eleventh prince of Britannia was born last night," the emperor shared his newspaper with her.

"That's lovely," said the woman, touching her stomach, which was beginning to stick out prominently. Her child squirmed inside of her, as though nervous. "It says here," she read, "That he was born... five weeks premature?" Suddenly she turned pale.

"Why... yes," said the emperor. His woman had begun stewing in her own panic. What if her baby was born prematurely as well? What if premature birth was contagious? It took much time to suppress that fear.

"Do you know if our baby's a boy or a girl?" asked the emperor casually.

"I don't know," replied the woman. In truth, she had made a special point not to ask the sex of her baby. She knew that the emperor wanted a daughter very much- although she suspected that he was being at least partially influenced by other factors.

"I want a daughter," the emperor said, for the millionth time since he had learned about her pregnancy, "But," he added hastily, "I would be happy with a son."

His mistress wasn't so convinced. "Is there any chance we could get married?" she pressed.

"There may be," said the emperor, "But I can't promise you." He was facing tremendous pressure at the time to marry a rich lady, very different from this relatively poor woman, who was scarcely more than a prostitute. And if their child wasn't a daughter... Those untrustworthy eunuchs were convinced that a girl would be less willful and easier to mold than a boy, so that would count against him as well.

"Do you want to come to bed?" asked the woman, sitting down on the bed.

"I... no, I can't stay with you tonight," said the emperor.

Much later, when the woman was almost nine months pregnant, her lover gave her a one-of-a-kind necklace made from gold and jade. Its pendant was a small jade cat. At this point, she could only move slowly, since the baby was so heavy inside her; and she frequently found herself pressing her lover's hand against her swollen belly to feel the baby kick. She spent a lot of time deliberating where to take her child home to once it was born, but reached no real conclusions about whether to stay in the palace or leave.

One morning in the last stretch of winter she went into labor and gave birth to her son, who was healthy in all ways, and weighed over ten pounds.

But it was a boy, and the emperor had wanted a daughter. When the emperor came to call, she nervously clutched the baby as close to her as she could. He was disappointed, she could tell, in their little boy. Nevertheless, she still loved the little boy, which she named Mao; and the emperor, to her immense relief, agreed to help support them, on the condition that they leave the palace and take up residence elsewhere.

The mother noticed something unsettling about her child: once all the blood and other disgusting goo had been cleared off of him, she noticed that his skin was very, very pale; and he had a faint line of white hair on top of his forehead. She had expected her child to have more color, and to have black hair. Did this mean her baby was ill? She called for a doctor at once to check on her baby, but the doctor reassured her that her son was just fine. His pale skin and white hair were the result of albinism, a simple melanin deficiency, not any dangerous illness.

The mother was not relieved. Albinism sounded scary. Some sort of genetic mutation, maybe? And didn't mutations leave people mentally retarded or sterile? And then she got a terrible thought. She had had a cousin whom she had never met, but who was born with albinism, and who had died at the age of twenty from muscle dystrophy.

Actually, she had begun a relationship with the emperor around the time of her cousin's death. That was the reason she had run away from home rather than going to her family's funeral. She didn't want to be contaminated by the albinism, so she went elsewhere. Her adventures ultimately led her to the emperor's palace, where, cold, hungry, and thirsty, she had knocked on the door.

As it happened, Mao was a rather difficult baby to look after. He liked to be cuddled and nursed all day for the first few months of his life. He wailed incessantly every time he wet his diapers, or experienced any discomfort at all. He needed to be held every night until he fell asleep, because he was so scared of the dark. So convinced was his mother that he would become mentally retarded as a result of his odd white hair, that her heart skipped ten beats when he began speaking early, saying his first small words before he was even a year old. He also readily picked up on the toys and games that encouraged development of cognitive abilities, especially those that involved building things, or putting them together.

Meanwhile, the emperor was experiencing greater difficulties. He had neglected to tell his court about his mistress and their son, and so they placed more and more pressure on him to marry a certain noble woman. Eventually, the pressure became insurmountable, and by the time Mao turned two, his father had gone out of his life forever.

His mother quickly became just as estranged to him as his father. There were long periods where she neglected him in their home, and came back smelling like smoke and bitterness. He himself was never allowed to leave the home. She forbade him from going to school for fear that he would infect others with his mutation, which, she was sure, her cousin had somehow infected him with. She didn't bother to teach him how to read or write or count. By the time Mao was around five, she learned that his condition was perfectly harmless, both to him and those around him; but she still treated him like a freak of nature, continuing to isolate him and even going so far as to consider giving him procedures and cosmetics to darken his hair. On several occasions, she even forgot his name, referring to him as simply "albino."

At around this time, trouble was brewing for China. Britannia was mounting an imperialist attack on the country, and the imperial city of Beijing where Mao and his mother lived became a hub of violence. Mao and his mother spent most of the time indoors for their own protection, going nowhere and seeing no one else. Mao was relieved to see that now that they had only each other, his mother appeared to warm up to him a little. She would smile at him and hold him, telling him not to worry, because soon it would be over. She would occasionally sing him songs, or tell him stories. She even started to call him by his name more than she called him 'albino.' Yet it seemed as though there was a sort of repressed fury in her, that Mao recognized but at his young age didn't know what to make of. Every affectionate gesture on his mother's part seemed oddly stiff and forced, as though her fingers were pushing him away or scratching him, no matter how close to her they brought him.

During a period of deceptive calm, Mao asked his mother if she would let him go outside, thinking for sure that now that they had spent so much time together, she would start being nice to him. Unfortunately, she adamantly refused to let him leave the house. "You're staying in here where you belong, you albino," she said.

"But why not?" Mao demanded. "I've never been outside in my life!"

"Well, it's better that way," said his mother, "Nobody wants to see a freaky little albino running around."

"Shut up!" said Mao, "Why do you always call me that?"

"If anyone saw you they'd do just the same thing, if not worse," his mother continued. "Go out into the world, and you'll see: everyone's got brown or black hair. White hair is just plain weird, and nobody will ever let you forget that."

"I don't care anymore!" said Mao, almost in tears, "I don't wanna stay here! Let me out, you meanie!"

His mother continued to refuse until Mao was forced to give up. However, sometime later, she was out of the house, and Mao was all alone. Now big enough to move the door handle by himself, he walked over to the door to their apartment and tried to force it open. It didn't budge right away, but by fiddling with the little dial in the center of the knob, Mao was able to unlock it, and walk outside. Feeling excitement building inside him, he ran down the stairs of his apartment building and out into the big world.

At this point the sun was setting, and the longer the child walked, the more he realized how dark and scary the big city looked. Scary-looking animals, and equally scary-looking people, glared at him from dark alleyways; the cars and buses zooming around him made so much noise it completely frightened and disoriented him- he was used to the quiet of the little apartment room where he lived. As the night wore on, he got hungrier and hungrier, having eaten nothing at all since the morning; but he could find no food.

That was when another attack on the imperial city began. Some very strange-looking battle machines flew overhead, dropping projectiles from above. Mao could only run for cover as objects began to explode around him; however, somehow he made it back to his apartment building, where he ran up the stairs to his room. He knew his mother wouldn't be happy with him, but anything was better than the noise and explosions! He ran back to his apartment room, but it was locked, so he knocked on the door furiously. Finally his mother opened it. "Mao!" she shouted. "Where have you been?" Mao winced, expecting a beating; but his mother appeared too shocked to be mad.

Just then the whole building gave a shake. "Oh, no!" she said, "Mao, we have to get out of here immediately! Come with me!" And she grabbed his arm and pulled him roughly down the stairs. Once outside, she screamed: "Go on! Run away! Now!" Mao did as he was told, running farther and farther away just as he heard a tremendous explosion behind him.

Eventually he was able to take cover by following many more groups of people down into a small area underground. Down in the shelter, he saw people crying, hugging one another, and screaming for their family members. Parents held their children close, trying to comfort them, an act which inspired Mao to look for his own mother. He shouted for her, but nobody replied. Everyone around him took one look and went about their business again.

Mao lost track of time quickly there, sitting or pacing on the hard ground. Occasionally someone brought him food and water, but nobody else paid him any mind. In due time, he managed to calm down enough to occasionally fall asleep, and wake up some nondescript time later. He didn't see his mother at all in that time, and whenever someone asked where his mother was all he could reply was "I don't know."

After quite awhile, a man made an announcement: "It is now safe to leave the shelter. The enemy has been driven back, for now!"

Once Mao wandered back outside, he couldn't believe what he saw. Dust and rubble were everywhere, and some still-standing buildings were splattered in dark red. After walking all day, calling his mother's name, he came upon a pile of rubble, in which something gleamed. He approached the object, picked it up, and began dusting it off. It was a gold necklace, with a green cat hanging from it. He recognized it as the necklace his mother always kept close, and his heart began racing. "Mother!" he called, "Are you in there? Mother?"

He began digging through the rubble until his hands bled, and at last he saw a hand he recognized as his mother's, and began pulling on it. It wouldn't budge. He kept digging, trying to uncover more and more of her body. Eventually, he managed to uncover her head and neck. But she felt very, very stiff; and her head was covered in blood. "Mommy!" he protested, "Please, wake up and get out of there!" But to no avail. She was dead, and he had no idea what to do about it. He had never seen anyone die before. "Wake up!" he pleaded, again and again, to deaf ears.

He was still by her side, crying his heart out, when night fell. He had never liked his mother, but never before had he felt so utterly alone. She wasn't going to feed him anymore, and their home was completely destroyed. "Why me? Why me?" he cried. Eventually, he cried himself to sleep, and woke up the next morning so hungry that he could not stay with his mother's body any longer. He dragged the necklace a few paces before throwing it on the ground and stomping on it. After having another cry, he left the area.

Within an hour after Mao had left that spot, a strange green-haired girl would find the necklace lying on the ground, and begin asking questions.


	2. Chapter 2

C.C. was visiting China on a whim. She wasn't quite sure what had drawn her there, but she had a feeling it would be good for her business. Maybe she could find someone to make a contract with, and extend her plans for the Geass cult. That was part of the reason she was in Beijing, the imperial city. Imperial cities tended to attract a lot of strange sorts.

And then she discovered the necklace. C.C. had been in the city since before the raid began, and when she discovered the dead woman in the rubble she became interested. The building, after all, appeared to be made of humble materials, and was certainly in a less fashionable part of town; and yet this extremely valuable necklace was here. What could it possibly mean? On a hunch, she decided to interview the nearest jeweler for a clue.

It took her much searching until she discovered the jeweler who had sold the necklace. By the time she had found the man's high-end store, it was early fall. "Do you know who bought this?" she asked.

"Yeah, the emperor," said the jeweler.

"The emperor?" C.C. pressed. That would explain how very valuable the necklace was. There certainly weren't many others in this country who could afford something so luxurious.

"He said he was buying it for some lover of his, because she was going to have a baby and needed something to support herself with incase he had to leave her."

"Really?" said C.C., suddenly interested. What could the jeweler's statement possibly mean about the emperor's child? He had one, of course, a bouncing two-year-old daughter named Jiang Lihua; but he was married to her mother. There was something that didn't add up. "How long ago was this?"

"Oh, about six some years ago, now?" said the jeweler.

"So, the emperor has an illegitimate child?" C.C. puzzled. And then she spotted an opportunity. An abandoned child of royalty would have good reason to want to prove himself, or seek revenge, and may possibly be more willing to accept Geass. Once this child had finished settling the score with his father, he could kill her and take over her immortality. In a flurry of energy, C.C. ran outside. She would just have to sneak into the Chinese palace and interview the emperor or his associates for clues.

C.C. knew she wouldn't be able to get past his guards by entering the palace directly; there were too many of them and she had no way to explain herself. As such, she snuck around the palace grounds for awhile, trying to remain hidden, as she searched for the room where the emperor stayed. Eventually, she looked into a window to see him and his wife, playing with their laughing, white-haired toddler daughter. She was the first to notice C.C.; and she pointed an inquiring finger in her direction just as C.C. entered the room. Little Jiang Lihua started to cry and the emperor was about to call his guards before C.C. silenced him. "I just have a few questions," she said, "And then I'll be gone."

"Why should I listen to you?" he asked.

"Because, I have ways of getting what I want," said C.C., "And I won't leave until you give me my information."

"Are you threatening me?" the emperor retorted, anger rising in his throat.

"No," said C.C., "But all I want is to ask you a few questions." She pulled out the gold necklace. "What do you know about this?"

The emperor's eyes widened, and he walked up to C.C. "Come with me," he said, pulling C.C. into a spare room so they could be alone.

"So, you have another child?" said C.C.

"I do," said the emperor.

"What happened to it?"

"I sent his mother away when he was born," said the emperor, "Those meddling eunuchs won't allow me to keep many strange women or children in the palace, so I had to send him and his mother to live on their own. I gave them more than enough money and resources to survive, though."

"And you don't know what became of him after that?" C.C. pressed.

"No," said the emperor, "I haven't seen him since he was my daughter's age, and that was four-odd years ago."

"Do you remember his name?" asked C.C.

"Why do you ask so much?" asked the emperor.

"I'm looking for orphaned or abandoned children to send to vocational school," C.C. lied quickly and easily.

"You don't look a day over sixteen."

"I'm unusually capable for my age," said C.C., "Just tell me the name of your son."

"Of all the insolent little-," said the emperor, "How dare you speak that way to me!"

"If I asked you more politely," C.C. pressed without emotion, "Will you tell me what I need to know?"

"Why are you so determined?"

"What do you care?" said C.C., "The poor thing, your own son, probably starving to death out in the streets or in some cold, miserable orphanage, while you sit around in the lap of luxury with your perfect daughter, pretending he doesn't even exist. You royals are all the same."

"He has a mother, doesn't he?"

"His mother is dead," said C.C., on a hunch. "Myself and the generosity of my noble organization are the only hope for him now."

Clearly, something C.C. said must have hit a nerve, because the emperor sighed, saying: "His name is Mao. He's albino, just like my daughter. He has the longest bangs, which always seem to cover his face."

"I see," said C.C., smiling weakly, "Thank you." And she left the family alone.

With that in mind, C.C. began searching the streets and orphanages for children. She couldn't give Geass to children who had others to take care of them, royalty or not. Since there were so few children in China with light hair, she could eliminate most simply by sight. Ultimately she took to interviewing passers-by to see if they noticed anything. Nevertheless, much more time passed before she found the child she was looking for.

One day in early spring, when the last snow of the year was falling, C.C. found the most miserable little boy she had seen yet, huddled under a newspaper trying to keep warm. His hair was so smeared with grime that it appeared to be more gray than white, and his face was streaked with tears. His skin was almost entirely red from sunburn, darkened in some places from bruises; and bled profusely from several nasty cuts. C.C. attempted to speak to him, soothingly, pulling out the necklace as she did so. The child's eyes widened when he saw it, and he said: "T-that's... that's my...!"

"Oh, you recognize this?" said C.C. "What's your name, boy?"

"M-Mao...," said the child weakly.

"Is that so?" said C.C., and she touched him, making her connection. She could see his potential for Geass: the boy was very intelligent, and could figure the ins and outs of people very well, despite having had little life experience. "Do you want to die?" she asked.

"N-no," the boy mumbled.

"I propose a contract," said C.C., "But in return you must grant my one wish. The power of Geass will condemn you to a life of solitude. Are you prepared for this?"

The child was a little taken aback at her big words, but when he thought of his sorry state he decided he had nothing to lose and muttered: "Y-yes."

"Then it is done," said C.C., and she let go of the child. He stared at her, and she could see a pink bird sigil in his eye. She watched his eyes turn wide with wonder for a few minutes before the one with the Geass in it returned to its natural purplish-blue color. Smiling, C.C. picked up the little boy, and began carrying him. He moved his head to face her, as though surprised; but appeared too weak to say anything. "It's okay," said C.C., in a more soothing tone, "We'll go find something to eat. You'll be okay." Besides, she still had the necklace. She could sell it, easily, and get enough money to rent a hotel room, and buy groceries for a long time.

Unfortunately, she hadn't gone very far when someone jumped out of the shadows and grabbed for the necklace. C.C. tried at first to hold onto it, but her assailant was bigger than she was; and it didn't take her long to realize, with Mao screaming and cowering on her shoulder, that it was a lost cause. She released the necklace and watched the thug run away from her, as she comforted a shaking, sobbing Mao.

But now the two of them had no way to get easy money, so they were forced to stay on the streets and scrounge for food. Eventually C.C. managed to steal a package of crispy noodles, which she fed Mao until the package ran out. For awhile, she took to leaving him to hide in secure locations while she went and stole sunscreen, soaps, bandages, and ointments, as well as food and water, which she used to nurse him back to health. "You'll have to wear this everyday," she explained as she first showed him the sunscreen, "It'll protect you from the sun."

"But what is that?" asked Mao.

"It's sunscreen," C.C. explained, "It absorbs the sun rays instead of your skin so you won't get burned." She handed him the package, which he looked at quizzically.

"But what does this say?" asked Mao.

"You can't read?" said C.C.

"No," said Mao, "I never learned how to."

"So you've never been to school?" asked C.C.

"School?" Mao cocked his head to one side, "What is school?"

"Oh, never mind," said C.C., making up her mind to teach him how to read as soon as an opportunity presented itself.

C.C. and Mao had very little food and money on them, and no way of guaranteeing when their next meal would be. To float by, C.C. decided it might be helpful to teach Mao how to steal. "...To pickpocket," she explained to the boy, "You have to take something from a person's pocket without their feeling it."

"Without their feeling it?" Mao echoed. "But how?"

"You sneak up on them, first," said C.C., "You have to blend in with your surroundings as much as possible. Make it so they can't notice you. Then, when they're thinking of something else, you just grab something you see sticking out of their pocket. Make sure their mind's on something else first, and then bump into them a little; grab the thing, whatever it is, quickly and run away."

"I can read their minds to make sure they're not paying attention to me!" Mao realized triumphantly. "Or to learn what's in their pockets!"

"Exactly," said C.C., a huge smile spreading across her face.

Later on that day, Mao decided to try this technique out in a big crowd. "Remember what I told you," C.C. whispered to him as he went out. He snuck around, trying to find someone with food or money in a pocket. Scanning several people's minds, he learned that one man had a chocolate bar in his pocket, which he was saving to eat. Mao waited until the man was quite occupied with something completely unrelated to his pockets before sneaking up on him, as quietly as he could, and reaching his hand in the pocket.

Instantly, the young man turned to look at him, and Mao withdrew his hand instantly. "What do you think you're doing?" the man demanded. Mao's eyes filled with tears, and he ran back to C.C., sobbing. C.C. sighed as she comforted him. It would take time before he learned how to steal properly.

"C.C.," he asked, once he had calmed down.

"What is it, Mao?" asked C.C.

"Why was that man so angry with me?"

"He just doesn't understand how much we need the food," C.C. reassured him. "Trust me, if he did, he would hand it over."

As Mao gradually began to improve his pick-pocketing skills, C.C. tried to think of ways she could use his sensitivity and general woebegone appearance to her advantage.

"Mao," she said to him one day, "I think I know how you could help me."

"How's that?" asked Mao.

"I think if you just went up and asked someone for food, they'd give it to you," said C.C. "But make sure you let them know that you really need food badly."

"Okay," said Mao. "Should I use my mind-reading?"

"If you want to," said C.C., "That's the easiest way to know who has the best food, after all." She reflected for a moment. "You could also try talking to someone while I collected food, if you want."

"Okay," said Mao, "Sounds good!"

Sure enough, Mao turned out to be very good at charming the socks off of people around him. He was able to insure, through reading their own thoughts and attempting to talk to them, that they donated their most expensive and delicious dishes- although he ended up not liking all of them, especially the really spicy ones. Anything that Mao refused to eat, he tended to feed, either to C.C., or to the stray dogs or cats he collected.

"You like animals?" C.C. asked him one evening, as he played with a little mongrel puppy he had befriended.

"Oh, yes, I like animals!" Mao replied enthusiastically.

"Can you read their minds?" asked C.C.

"I dunno," said Mao, "I can't really understand what they think but..." He thought for a minute, "It doesn't matter, because I know they won't think anything they don't do. They're not like people. People think all kinds of things... that I never see them do anything about. Or... don't even know they think." His face darkened.

"Really?" said C.C., putting on a front of extreme curiosity. "Like what?"

"Well... one person I asked for some food was afraid his girlfriend was cheating on him with his brother. I had to dig into his head to find it," said Mao, "But what does that even mean?"

"That...," C.C. struggled with how to explain it. "That's something you'll understand when you're older."

"And there was someone else who kept telling himself to jump onto some train tracks somewhere," Mao continued, "He said he wanted to get away from his old life. But he never did." He shrugged "I just don't get it. Why would anyone want to be on train tracks?" said Mao. "If the train came... Why couldn't he just get on the train, if he wanted to get away? I thought that was what trains did..." When he looked at C.C. in the face again, her eyes were wide with shock. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Mao... you've really been hearing all those things?" she said.

"Well... yeah," said Mao, "I have to hear everyone around me, right? When I use this power? It's pretty scary sometimes... But what about that man?"

"He-," C.C. started to explain, "He wanted to go somewhere you can't get to on a train."

"But where?" asked Mao. "Trains can take you anywhere, right?"

"Not to the C's world," said C.C., mysteriously, as she stared off into space.

"You mean, like C.C.?" asked Mao.

"Yeah, sure, like C.C.," said C.C.

"What is the C's world?" asked Mao.

"It's where you go after you die," said C.C., "Or if you have special magical abilities. You'll learn more about that later. I've actually been there, though I can't really talk about it. Most people who aren't as familiar with it as I am call it by other names, of course. Heaven, for one."

"You were dead once?" asked Mao.

"Well... no," said C.C., "Not exactly. I'm a witch, who's worked very closely with the C's world before. But I can't tell you anything. You'll just have to wait to find out what it's like."

"Can I go there before I die, too?" asked Mao.

"There is a way," said C.C., "But not now. I'll explain it all... when you're older."

As the two of them huddled together to sleep that night, with the puppy at their feet, they had no idea that their life was about to take a turn for the worse.


	3. Chapter 3

_And... this is the final part of this story. It'll be short, but I thought it could stand on its own._

"Mao, please don't cry," C.C. pleaded with Mao, as he lay sobbing in her arms. "The man didn't mean to run over your puppy."

"Yeah maybe but...," said Mao, "Why'd he have to be so mean about it? He didn't care at all! My poor little puppy...!"

"Mao, it's alright...," said C.C., "Listen, would you like me to find you a new puppy?" Frankly, C.C. thought, Mao was better at finding the animals than she was, but anything to cheer him up.

"Gee, I dunno," said Mao, "I just... I hate that man! I hate him, I hate him, I hate him! He killed my puppy and doesn't even care!"

"He did apologize to you," C.C. reminded him.

"Yeah, but he didn't feel bad at all!" said Mao. His face grew very, very dark. "He should die. Like he killed my puppy."

"Mao..., you really believe that?" said C.C., not quite sure what she was hearing. "That's a terrible thing to say..."

"You really think so...?" Mao desperately searched for something else he could blame on his misfortune. And then it came to him: his powers. If he had no mind-reading powers, he wouldn't have known what the man was thinking. "Oh, C.C.!" he started sobbing again, louder than before, and buried his head in C.C.'s breasts. "C.C., I don't want to read minds anymore! Please take it back!"

"Mao...," C.C. sighed hopelessly, "Mao, please, try to understand, I can't."

"You c-can't?" Mao wailed, "Why not?"

"It doesn't work that way," said C.C., "There's only one way to make the powers go away, and that's not something you can do right now. I'll tell you how when you get a little... older."

"That's... dumb!" Mao whined.

"Maybe," said C.C., "But that's the way it goes."

As time went on, though, Mao started hearing little snippets of voices randomly, whether he wanted to or not, and eventually, he was hearing them all the time, full blast. "Stop it! Shut up!" he screamed, as he huddled against C.C. "Be quiet!"

"Don't listen to them," said C.C., "Just listen to the sound of my voice." By talking to Mao for several minutes, C.C. was able to calm him down. However, it became clear that she would need to take him somewhere else for his safety. "It's alright," she promised him, "We'll go away."

With that, she took Mao's hand and began walking to the train station, speaking to him soothingly all the way. "Where are we going, C.C.?" Mao asked as the two of them boarded.

"We're going so far we won't be able to see this place anymore," C.C. explained, "I'll take you to a place where there won't be anyone else's thoughts around to bother you."

"And then what?" asked Mao.

"Well... since my mind is the only one you can't read," said C.C., "and since you can only be happy when you're with me, I will stay with you, always."

"Really?" said Mao, with a smile.

"I'm right here," said C.C., "So you don't have to worry." She help Mao close to him, as he rubbed her nose with his own.

The train was fast, but nevertheless it took them hours to get into the countryside. C.C. tried to keep up a conversation with Mao in order to distract him from all the voices in his head; but every once in a while he would hear something so painful he would start to cry, and C.C. would have to comfort him. Finally, however, the train arrived at its last stop, and Mao and C.C. got off the train, and began making their way through the countryside.

From there, they continued their journey on foot, with C.C. carrying Mao on her back at times when he could no longer walk. They passed through many villages, but gradually those got fewer and farther between. When they were there, the two of them would steal food to sustain them. If they had extra time, Mao would play with the stray animals he found. The nights the two of them had to spend in the villages were the hardest for Mao, since all the thoughts and dreams of the people around him would fill his head, making him scream, cry, and writhe in C.C.'s arms until she succeeded in lulling him to sleep. He also woke up frequently.

As the two of them left their last village, Mao carried a small kitten along with him. "C.C., can I keep him?" he asked.

"Mao, why would you want to do that?" asked C.C. "We won't be able to feed any pets once we get out into the wild."

"But this is a really bad place to live," said Mao, "Everyone here gets all these terrible thoughts."

"Most of those won't affect a cat, though," said C.C. "He'll be just fine here."

"Are you sure?" asked Mao.

"Y-yeah," said C.C. quickly, "Come on, leave him."

"Oh, alright," said Mao, grudgingly putting the kitten down. "Sorry," he murmured as he watched it run back toward town.

The next people they passed were farmers, working in the rice paddies or tending animals. C.C. managed to use some of the money they had stolen from a village awhile back to buy a bag of rice. "We won't be able to find many grains where we need to go," C.C. explained, "So we have to get them from town."

It was late spring when C.C. and Mao finally found a spot where they could stay. It was a beautiful open area surrounded by mountains and forests, with a beautiful lake right in the center. There was even a small shack close by, where the two of them could sleep. The instant Mao saw it, he became wildly happy, as C.C. had never seen him before. "Wow, C.C., this is so cool!" he exclaimed as he ran around, "This is gonna be the greatest place to live, ever!" And C.C. managed to smile at his enthusiasm.

Over a period of several days, C.C. and Mao cleaned out their new cabin, and C.C. taught Mao how to build fires, how to dig a well to collect water, and how to fish and forage for plants to eat. After their first winter went by, the two of them bought some seeds from a nearby village, to grow their own fruits and vegetables. To her joy, C.C. found she never had to prod Mao to do anything- if she asked him to do it, he would. He approached all tasks with an exaggeratedly serious face, and would keep working until his task became physically impossible for him. As he grew older, he would be inventing all sorts of new ways to make their lives easier.

Now Mao was happy almost all the time. When he wasn't working, he would play with C.C. in the meadow or the woods, showering her with affection or bringing him little animals he found to inspect. He was absolutely in love with C.C., and every night he would cuddle up next to her, kneading her with his hands and purring. C.C. felt as fond of him as she had ever been of anything, and began dreading in the back of her mind the day she would ultimately have to die and leave him. But for now, all that she and Mao needed was each other.

**The End**


End file.
